


Days on a Wire

by brightlikeloulou



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Making Love, Paul Rovia's backstory, Underage Rape/Non-con, brief thoughts of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-16 02:35:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18085778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightlikeloulou/pseuds/brightlikeloulou
Summary: Paul Rovia always knew that he'd survive.





	Days on a Wire

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!  
> The actual rape in this fic is not written, but it is made clear that was what happened, and the build up and aftermath of it is quite graphic. Paul was also underage at the time. There is also a brief mention of self harm.

Paul Rovia had never belonged anywhere.

Well, maybe once upon a time, right when he was just a bub. He wished that he could remember that first year of his life. He wondered how his mother came up with his name; did she know when she first saw him? Or did she pick it out from a baby book? He wondered what songs she sang him to sleep with, what her laugh sounded like. Had she cried when she first met him?

That year came to a crashing end, and though Paul knew that it was impossible, he swore that he could hear her screams as his father plunged a knife through her chest.

So, at one year old, he'd been driven to child protective services by a policeman that had first responded to the scene of his mother's murder. His father was long gone, having driven away from the house in shame and fear, leaving a screaming and sobbing baby Paul in his crib, crying because he was hungry, and he didn't know where his mommy was.

 

* * *

  

_The woman let out a final cry of pain and slumped back against the cushioning behind her. Her chest rose and fell with her deep breaths, her eyes closing, and she wiped at her face where the sweat was sticking her brunette hair to her face._

_A piercing cry filled the air of the hospital room, and her eyes immediately tore open. Her eyes settled on the pink bump in the arms of one of her nurses and quickly found the strength to hold her arms out._

_She sighed deeply as the nurse placed him in her arms, and she cradled him to her chest, cooing softly and stroking what little hair he had._

_"My little bump," she whispered, "My little Paul," she said, and he finally began screaming his tiny heart out, his first breaths of air reaching his lungs as the shrill screams filled the room. She simply shushed him and kissed his little forehead as he began to settle._

 

* * *

  

Paul hadn't just screamed when he was a baby. It was a rare occurrence, but god he would scream. Scream until his throat burned and his voice broke, and he felt some form of release. As if, just temporarily, he could just expel the demons from his body.

The first time he did it for the simple purpose of screaming, he would have been around ten. He'd just been placed in yet another group home, he didn't know how many he'd been put in by that point. He'd been attacked by some of the other kids; they all seemed to know that he was different. He was so small when he was younger, and with no form of his martial arts training back then, he didn't stand a chance against the other children when they cornered him.

He'd run into the woods behind the house, somehow finding the energy despite the aches and pains that were settling throughout his body. When he was a good hour into the trees, he dropped to his knees and ran his hands through his hair, feeling the stickiness of blood on his fingers. He'd been sobbing, so exhausted from the constant pain of his childhood, and he remembered contemplating the knife that he had in his pocket, he wondered how hard it would be to press it into his wrists, give him some real relief.

He didn't. He instead bent forward until his hands were clasping at the dirt beneath them, and he opened his mouth and just screamed. It was a sound so horrifying that he was sure it would have been chilling to any parent's ears if they'd heard it. The noise of it swam through the trees, scaring the birds and rabbits, and eventually floating to the ears of an elderly man on his back porch, who after much consideration, decided it was just silly children playing.

While nothing awful was happening to Paul in those woods, he still needed help. He didn't know what kind of help, he didn't even know he needed it until he was much older; but later on, he recognized that no child should have to be in that much pain with no support source.

 

* * *

  

Being gay was no surprise for Paul. He'd always known that he was different from the other children he grew up around, he didn't exactly know what it was, not when he was younger especially. But, around thirteen; he'd been invited to a party from one of the nicer kids in his classes at school and had attended with his foster sibling at the time.

Being young kids, party games were a must, and when the birthday girl's parents retired upstairs, leaving them to their fun, a game of spin the bottle commenced. There was so many of them that it was almost twenty minutes into the game before the top end of the bottle landed on Paul. His cheeks immediately flushed red, and he looked up to find the girl who had spun the bottle, already making her way across the circle. Paul looked at her as she settled in front of him, she was undoubtedly pretty, long black hair, deep brown eyes, and sweet smile, so he couldn't work out why there was no excitement swirling in his stomach.

The girl leaned forward, cupping his jaw and then pressing her lips to his. Immediately, it felt wrong. Her hands felt too small on his face, her lipstick smudging against his lips, her candy-scented perfume was strong. None of it felt right, and he involuntarily winced into the kiss, which she noticed and proceeded to pull away and return back to her place in the circle.

Once the whooping and cheering from the other kids ended, Paul made his way to the bathroom to try and figure out what the hell was wrong with him.

It was a year later, when that same girl, who Paul later realized was called, Charlotte, came out to their school as a lesbian. It took Paul the entire day to pluck up the courage to go and talk to her. He found her sitting by herself at lunch and asked if the seat opposite her was free.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?" he had asked.

"Not at all," Charlotte had replied, as she took a bite out of her apple and grinned at him.

"How did you know that you're gay?" he inquired quietly.

She looked at him for a moment, "Well, I knew when I kissed you and absolutely hated it,"

Paul smirked a little and nodded, "I think that's when I knew too. Or at least started to think about it," he replied, and breathed out deeply, his heart pounding in his chest. _See, you knew you weren't like everyone else,_ he thought to himself.

He and Charlotte remained friends until he was forced to move to a new group home three months later.

 

* * *

 

Another time Paul screamed his shattering scream, he was sixteen.

He'd gotten a fake ID and taken himself to the only gay club in town. He desperately wanted to do something he wanted to do, he wanted to feel free and that he had a choice over his own life instead of having to follow the strict rules of his foster parents.

He'd been approached by an older man, he would have been close to thirty Paul guessed, and he was so young and naive that back then he didn't see that that in itself was enough of a warning sign: a thirty-year-old, coming onto a sixteen-year-old. He'd been happy just to get some attention.

The man, called Jacob, had bought Paul several drinks, laughing when Paul winced and coughed at the taste of a shot. They'd been chatting together for close to two hours when the man had gotten up to use the bathroom, and Paul was approached by the bartender, a sweet lady with short curly hair.

"Sweetheart, do you need to get out of here?" she asked him, her face filled with concern.

"No, I'm fine," he had replied, looking back towards the bathroom to see if Jacob was on his way back yet.

"Sweetheart, I know you're barely eighteen," she said, while being sixteen, Paul had a full beard that made him look a bit older, but he still had a baby face. "And whatever you're thinking, it's not a good idea, I know that guy," she said.

Paul chose to ignore her and smiled when a hand was on his back, "Hey," he greeted Jacob.

Jacob grinned at him, and leaned down to whisper in his ear, "I want to take you somewhere special," he said, pressing a soft kiss against his jaw.

Paul grinned and stood up from the chair, "Let's go then," he replied, and he heard the bartender let out a loud sigh, but Paul once again ignored her and let Jacob take his hand and lead him out of the club.

They ended up at the lake about twenty minutes out of town, and as it was late at night, nobody else was around. Paul was sat on top of the bonnet of Jacob's car, and smoking one of the older man's cigarettes while he searched around in the back of his car for something.

Paul had excited butterflies fluttering in his stomach and smiled when Jacob suddenly appeared in front of him. Jacob smirked big, and then proceeded to reach forward and smash their lips together, Paul gasped a little in surprise and attempted to keep up with the fast pace.

Before Paul knew what was happening, Jacob's hands were on his jeans, and pulling down the zip, "Hey," Paul said, pulling away from the kiss and pushing on Jacob's chest, "I don't want- stop, slow down," he was cut off when Jacob shoved him down onto the bonnet of the car, purposely slamming his head against the hard surface and Paul's vision went blurry.

Paul had always been tiny, he still hadn't had his growth spurt and only stood at five foot one. Jacob was over ten years his senior and much larger, Paul didn't have a chance when the man rolled him over and began stripping him naked, no matter how much Paul squirmed and protested, Jacob just hit him again.

*

Afterward, Paul lay naked in the dirt as Jacob got back in his car and drove off, leaving him alone in an unfamiliar place in the middle of the night.

Paul was shaking, silent tears rolling down his cheeks as he watched the lights of the car fade into the distance, immediately blaming himself for being so stupid, for not listening to the bartender. He let out a sob as he forced himself to get to his feet, his vision spinning and his entire body aching, his rear end was burning from Jacob only using spit, and Paul could feel the stickiness of blood.

He spent several minutes getting his head together, waiting for the spinning to stop, and for his legs to feel more balanced. He looked out at the water, the moon's reflection pretty on the dark surface. Paul quickly made a decision, and went to the water, still naked, he waded into the cold lake and began washing himself as best he could, being gentle with himself as he continued to cry. When he finished, he lifted his head towards the sky that was lit up with stars, and screamed into the night, with no fear of being heard.

Jacob had left him his clothes at least, in a crumbled pile near where the car had been. Paul used his shirt to dry himself off, the cold air against his wet skin making him shiver and his teeth chatter. He pulled his boxers and jeans up his legs, wincing at the pain it caused when he lifted them. He sat down and put his boots and socks on next, and as his shirt was wet, he put his jacket back on with nothing under it.

He was still cold, but not as much.

He walked back to his group home that night, his arms wrapped tightly around himself, and the tears drying on his cheeks. He arrived back at the home just before five am and climbed through his bedroom window to get back inside.

 

* * *

 

Paul's growth spurt came in the weeks a few months before his eighteenth birthday. It wasn't much, it only got him to five foot eight, but it was a big enough change for him that he felt empowered by it.

That growth spurt brought him courage, he felt stronger, more powerful, that he wasn't so vulnerable anymore.

He moved away as soon as he was eighteen, to the city of Richmond, and wanting to look as strong as he felt, he took up martial arts classes, using all his spare money on them. He got physically stronger, his body becoming covered in defined muscles and incredible power resting in his hands, legs, and feet; what he called his own personal weapons.

 

* * *

 

He was thirty when the dead began walking.

Five after the start of it, he was walking down one of the old back roads outside of Richmond, his goal was to make it as far away from populated areas as he could. He held a knife in one hand, blood soaking his clothes, his pack heavy where it sat on his back, and blisters were beginning to form on the backs of his ankles.

His hair was starting to get long, the tips reaching just below his jaw, and it surprised himself how much he liked it. While there was the stereotype of long hair making men look more 'feminine,' on the rare occasions Paul had seen himself in a mirror, he had to disagree. It made his face look harsher almost, his expressions stronger, and scary.

Looking at himself in that mirror, he almost didn't recognize himself. He found that he loved that.

 _I was made for this new world,_ he told himself as he walked down that road, ready for anything that it could throw at him.

 

* * *

  

Paul had never been good at getting close to people, trusting them. The way he grew up could be blamed for that.

There'd been a couple of times before the outbreak, he'd call himself friends with his coworkers at the dojo that he ran, some people that he worked at with at the gym, one or two neighbors in his apartment building; but he'd never say that he was particularly close with any of them. Boyfriends were the same story; he'd meet a guy, he'd like them, but after a couple of months it'd become too much, and he'd break things off.

Two years into the new world, was surprised when Paul had the most significant change in his life. Meeting the people of Alexandria set him down a new path of trust, opening up, and eventually falling in love. Maggie had been the first person in his entire life that he had genuinely cared about.

Maggie's strength had been something to look up to. She continued after her husband's death, became the leader of a mess of a community and fixed it up, all while carrying, and then raising her son. Paul saw himself in Maggie; in how she thought about every exact detail, how she was always cautious, the way she only relaxed when she was alone. Maybe that was why they got along so well. She became a sister to him, someone he knew he could trust with whatever he needed.

He and Daryl were a slow thing, though to Paul, right from the start, he felt that there was going to be something between them, the world just got between them.

They weren't simple. They screamed at each other, they cried, they argued until the early hours of the morning. They were such different personalities, but they still fit together like a puzzle piece. Their first kiss was something so gentle and loving on both their parts, Paul could have cried right there.

Paul liked the gentle aspect of their relationship, he'd never had it before in a romantic partner, and he knew that he had never been gentle either. Whether sexual or not, that's just not how he was. He grew to enjoy lovemaking as much as fucking, learning that there was, in fact, a difference between the two of them; it took four months of a sexual relationship with Daryl for him to realize that.

He and Daryl were right for each other, held each other up, pulled each other up, reminded each other what it meant to be human in the changed world that they lived in. They could stand together and kill people, or walkers, fight until they were panting and covered in blood, and then gently wash each other in the shower when they returned back to their home at The Hilltop. Soft kisses, gentle hands, quiet words, that calmed the adrenaline coursing through their bodies. Made their minds sound again.

The way they'd turn to each other in their bed at night was something Paul swore he'd dreamed of once. Soft smacking noises of their lips dancing together were always the first thing that filled the trailer. Paul's hands usually found themselves on Daryl's cheeks, holding the man in place. Paul never knew how long they kissed for, or who'd make the first move to take it further, but they always found themselves there.

Clothes would be removed and tossed in all directions, and their naked skin slid together as their body head sealed them together.

After several months together, the fucking became less often, and the lovemaking more prominent. Paul stopped rushing it like he used to, spent sometimes hours on taking Daryl apart over and over again before he even thought about his own pleasure. He'd usually only enter Daryl when the man started begging him to, and there was something about that that Paul couldn't resist. He always kissed Daryl when he first thrust inside, both of them moaning as Daryl stretched around him and Paul became surrounded by the tight heat.

They'd move together in a perfect rhythm, pleasure, and passion seeping from their bodies as they held each other close.

He and Daryl never asked each other for something they couldn't give. Their relationship was built on the grounds of mutual respect, deep love, and actions of care and affection. They preferred to show how they loved each other instead of speaking it. It was shown in how Paul would bring home flowers for Daryl, massage his shoulders after a hard day, wash his hair for him, press kisses into his scars; Daryl always tried his best to find a deer, because he knew how much Paul enjoyed it, he'd cook dinner every night because he'd always be home first, he made sure to clean Dog's feet before he came inside, and to take his own boots off.

Ten years after the dead began walking, they laid together. They were in their house, in their comfortable, warm, shared bed. Daryl was asleep and nestled against Paul's chest, looking younger as his face relaxed in his unconsciousness, the man was forty-six now, and Paul himself was a few weeks shy of his fortieth birthday.

He didn't see it as a sign of aging though, as many would. He saw it as a milestone of surviving, surviving everything the world had thrown at him, just as he knew he would.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are loved! X
> 
> Tumblr - iiloulouii


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